


Growing Pains

by usa123



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:37:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5943940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usa123/pseuds/usa123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky accidentally rips one of the shirts Steve lent him while boxing.  He expects his friend to be upset but is instead reminded that not all people are as cruel as his handlers had been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Pains

**Author's Note:**

> Just an idea I had after seeing [this](https://scontent.cdninstagram.com/hphotos-xft1/t51.2885-15/e35/12301129_1672334456364751_54854572_n.jpg) picture of a much healthier Bucky.

Bucky jerked upright, his breathing coming in harsh ragged pants and sweat pouring down his face.  He stuttered upright, taking a scant moment to regain his equilibrium, before pulling a shirt over his head and practically running to the gym to take out his pent-up energy on a reinforced Stark-issue punching bag.

He jogged in place exactly twice, swinging his arms in a horizontal circle, then began to punch.  Remnants of the nightmare flashed in his vision—the things he had done, the people he had hurt—as he hit and kicked and pounded the bag.

An indeterminate amount of time later, he saw the face of a young woman and lashed out at the bag with all his strength.  Just as his left hand made contact, he heard a loud ripping sound.  The sound snapped him back to the present and he pulled his follow-up punch, assuming he’d broken the supposedly indestructible bag. As his vision cleared, he realized the bag was still hanging intact. 

_Then what had he heard…?_

At that exact moment, he felt cool air from the air conditioner blowing on his right shoulder blade.  He reached over with his left hand and felt the torn fabric, instantly realizing that he’d ripped his shirt.  He didn’t consider it a big deal, as he was confident he could find a way to mend the seam, until he looked down at the shirt for the first time and realized it was one of Steve’s.

He’d been living with in Avengers Tower for about two weeks now.  He had brought everything he owned with him—a bag of toiletries, a blanket and a change of clothes—but the collective Avengers had taken one look at the threadbare outfit and tossed it.  Steve had lent him a few pieces of clothing until they could take him shopping the next morning.  As he was slightly underweight and malnourished after his time on the streets, Steve’s clothes fit him well, hanging much looser on him than they did on their owner.  Even after he’d gone shopping with Steve and purchased more clothes than he’d ever seen in one place in his entire life, he still kept a few of Steve’s items, as they were soft with repeated washes. 

He had no idea if Steve was ever going to ask for these items back, but if he did, Bucky was pretty sure Steve wouldn’t want any of them to be broken.

He gasped as a pain lit through his skull, bringing with it a painful flashback: one from many years ago when he had destroyed a piece of tech on a mission.  His punishment had not been pleasant.

As the pain faded, irrational fear began to set in: what if Steve was upset?  What if he didn’t want him in the Tower anymore, as he clearly couldn’t take care of even a T-shirt?  From what he could remember, Steve didn’t seem like the type, but his logic was lost in the wave of sheer, unbridled panic. 

_Had he made the wrong choice coming back here?_

“Sergeant Barnes?”  JARVIS said, “My sensors indicate you are having a panic attack.  Let me remind you that you are in Avengers Tower.  The time is currently…” The British voice droned on and on, reciting facts about his current location, the time and date, until Bucky came back to himself.

“Thanks JARVIS,” he gasped.

“You’re most welcome sir.  Should I alert Captain Rogers?”

Fear lanced through his system but this time Bucky was aware enough to tamp it down.

“No.  I need to talk to him anyway.”

It would be better to see him now, and address this than let it wait.  He could fix the shirt—he was sure of it—but if he didn’t say anything, it would be noticed later, and that would be equally horrible.  He had vague memories of similar fiasco as well.

Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad….Maybe Steve would understand.  But even as he said it, dread crept into his stomach and knotted his intestines.  

As much as he didn’t want to, he had to take care of it now.  Bucky hurried back to his room and switched into one of _his_ shirts after reverently peeling off Steve’s sweaty and torn shirt so as to not further rip it.  Then he crossed to the other side of the floor and knocked on the door to Steve’s room.

His friend came to the door clad only in a pair of pajama bottoms, rubbing sleep from his eyes.  “Bucky, what’s wrong?” he asked, instantly awake as soon as he saw his friend.

Barnes took a deep breath and shoved the shirt at Steve.  “I ripped it.”

Steve blinked.  “What?”

_Maybe he had said it in the wrong language._ That happened sometimes when he was nervous.  “I ripped it,” Bucky repeated, slowly, forcing himself to speak in English.

Steve still looked confused.  “I heard you the first time, Buck.  It’s not a big deal.  I have plenty others.”

_Was this a tactic, or was Steve really not mad?_ He decided to take the direct approach.  “You’re not mad?”

An unreadable expression slipped onto Steve’s face.  “No, I’m not mad,” he said levelly.  “I will never be mad at something that happens accidentally.”

“Oh,” Bucky shifted uncomfortably.  He’d been wrong and he wasn’t used to being wrong—he didn’t know how to act next.

Then Steve tilted his head to the side and Bucky instantly became concerned again.  Steve put his hand through the shirt, seemingly disinterested in its wet exterior, and poked his fingers through the hole.  “Bucky, how did you rip the shirt?”

_Dammit.  Steve_ was _mad._ “Punching,” he muttered as his heart dropped to his knees.

Steve looked at his friend closely, then held out the shirt by the shoulders, dangling it in front of Bucky.  Barnes immediately felt uncomfortable by the scrutiny but forced himself to not pull away—he could do this.  He could handle any punishment Steve dished out.

After making a quick move to show Bucky he meant no harm, Rogers slowly reached out and tried to stick his fingers between the shirt sleeve cuff and Bucky’s flesh arm.  Unfortunately, the fabric was stretched so tightly it hardly gave. “Bucky,” Steve said slowly, “I think you outgrew your shirt.”

Bucky’s eyes widened as memories danced through his brain: the punishments, the diets, the tube.  He’d taken too much advantage of all the food—he had suspected it was a test.  He should have held back, but Steve looked so _happy_ when Bucky finished a meal that he had kept it up.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he found himself saying ad nauseum as the world greyed out to panic.  “I’ll be more careful.  I can fit into them again.”

“What?” Steve gasped, all the color draining out of his face.  “No!”  He reached out and pulled Bucky into a hug, yanking him out of his downward spiral.  “You listen here—there’s no need to be careful around food.  I’m happy you gained a little weight.  You look healthy for the first time since you got here.  I was worried about you; I haven’t seen people look that sickly since the war.”

This was not going as Bucky had planned.  “You what?” he asked in genuine confusion.

Steve pulled away.  “I was worried,” he repeated.  “We all were.  Especially after your physical.”

“But I passed,” Bucky stated, still not understanding Steve’s point.

Steve huffed out an unamused laugh.  “You _barely_ passed.  You were half a percent from being considered underweight and your bloodwork was all over the chart...That’s bad, in case you weren’t aware.”

“Oh,” was all Bucky could say.

“Shit, Buck.  You thought I was gonna be mad?  It’s a shirt.  Material’s not nearly as durable as it used to be.  What’s important is that you’re healthy.  We’ll just have to go get you new stuff tomorrow.”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest.

“Don’t even think about saying you can make the old stuff fit again.  You can hardly move in this one you have on now.  My shirt is even smaller.”  Steve shook his head and muttered,  “We should have thought about that last time we went shopping.  We’ll make sure to get stuff in different sizes this time around.”

“But Steve, we just bought—”

“We’ll donate them, Buck, to someone who needs them.  We won’t let them go to waste.”

“I don’t have any money.”  The very moment he decided to return to Steve’s life, he’d burned all the Hydra cash as an act of symbolism.  In hindsight, it wasn’t his smartest idea but it had felt damn good at the time.

Steve looked personally wounded.  “You need clothes that fit Bucky.  If it will make you feel better, when Coulson figures out how to get you your backpay, we can work something out.”

That sat better with Bucky.  It just felt wrong to let someone else take care of him like this.  Paying Steve back felt like a fantastic compromise.  “Okay,” he finally said.

Steve smiled widely.  “Great!  First thing tomorrow we’ll go shopping.  Now get some sleep.”

Bucky’s back instinctively straightened before he could stop it and Steve cursed.  Loudly.  “No Bucky.” He paused to evaluate his words then said, “If you want to get some more sleep, you should.  Otherwise you should do whatever you wanted to do.”

Bucky thought for a moment.  He _was_ kinda tired after his boxing practice and subsequent panic attack.  “Sleep sounds good.”

Steve smiled. “Sleep it is.  See you in the morning Buck.”

After a moment, Bucky smiled too.  “G’night Steve.”  He waited until he was outside his own room to add, “and thanks.”

“Anytime Buck.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you thought!
> 
> (Find me on [Tumblr](http://usaonetwothree.tumblr.com)!)


End file.
